


Taking the Wheel

by ProbablyMisha



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Dean Winchester, Angel Wings, Apocalypse, Canon Compliant, Castiel Possessing Dean Winchester, Castiel!Dean - Freeform, Confused Castiel (Supernatural), Dubious Consent, Eventual Smut, F/M, Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Possessed Dean Winchester, angel possession, mostly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:47:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29595081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProbablyMisha/pseuds/ProbablyMisha
Summary: Dean allows Castiel to take control of his body as his new vessel after a brutal fight against his ex-angel comrades goes wrong, and he soon learns it won't be so easy. Castiel takes ownership of Dean's body and his mind, confusing Dean's consciousness and thoughts with his own for some time. And then he and Dean must learn to co-exist while Cas looks for a new ride to hitch.WIP|Set in S5
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	1. No Control.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean becomes possessed, and it isn’t any fun.

Castiel grips Dean's sleeve, writhing in pain. And Dean only leans in, desperate to keep hold on the last of Castiel's light as it begins to fade from his eyes.

"Dean," Castiel gasps, coughing and spluttering up gouts of blood. "Please, you have to say yes. Become my vessel, Dean."

The sheer panic in his voice resonates within Dean and Sam, their friend angel is dying and he's asking for a favor, one that may be very unreasonable to ask so late and put Dean on the spot, but a favor that is owed. He once brought Dean back from the dead, saving him from an eternity of undeserved torture. Truly, the least he could do is return the favor.

Castiel is close to death now, his eyes are beginning to dull. Sam, who has never even been particularly close to Castiel, smacks Dean and gives him an expectant look. Clearly they both know the right thing to do is let him in. The alternative is cruel.

"Yes, Cas," Dean says, his voice wavering as Castiel's grip on him loosens. He grabs Castiel's hand just as quick as Castiel had let his hand fall loose. "I'll be your vessel."

There's a big flash of light that envelops them suddenly, surrounding them, holding him still. Sam blocks his eyes from the flash of light, turning his back, but Dean keeps his own wide open, embracing it. Then the space around them becomes dim again, and Dean is leaning over the corpse of his friend.

There's a silence that washes over the brothers, as Dean's hands slip away from Castiel's limp one, that cannot be described. The body's eyes are fixed somewhere distant, nothing behind them, and Dean begins to shake when he realizes he doesn't feel any different. He doesn't feel his friend's presence like he thought he would. In fact, he'd dare say he feels somewhat emptier.

"Castiel?" Sam asks, approaching Dean cautiously. He stands behind Dean for a moment, leveling his gaze with the back of Dean's head.

Dean stares down at his hands, his palms skyward. His face twists into an expression of hurt as he lowers his hands and looks down at the body below him, eyes welling with tears of pain and frustration.

"Nope," Dean said, looking up at the sky. "Still Dean."

"It didn't work?" Sam asked, sucking in a shaky breath, which he then holds for a while in anticipation.

"Guess not," Dean says, looking back to Castiel's vacant expression. Slowly he places his hand over Cas' eyes, closing them for good, then he's on his feet and turning back to his despondent brother. "Let's get out of here before the angels change their mind about letting us live."

With that the brothers leave the area, ditching Castiel's body. That's someone else's problem. And they remain vigilant as they get in the impala, slamming the doors behind them. And Dean can't help the way guilt drums within him. If he had have said yes sooner rather than later, or maybe even suggested it himself earlier, the angel would be alive. He tells himself it's his fault as he and Sam drive in relative silence, the song playing on the radio and the static beneath it remains rather detached from his train of thoughts. _'How many more have to die so Sammy and I can live?'_ Dean thinks callously. 

\--

The second they get inside Bobby's place and he sees the look on their faces, and the fact that Cas hasn't return with them, he knows what's happened. They don't need to say a thing. Not what transpired or how they're feeling about it, because their faces and body language says enough.

He offers them a beer, but they both decline, retreating instead to their own separate parts of the property to mourn Cas in their own ways.

Dean settles out in the car yard in baby, gripping the steering wheel with the same hands that had just hours earlier gripped the hand of his dying angel friend. Castiel's hand had been cold and weak in his own warm and tough grip. He held the angel as he died, watched the life within him disappear into thin air. That's gonna haunt him for a while. Just add it to the pile of nightmare fuel he can mull over as he struggles to fall into a restless sleep at night. _'Castiel would be alive if it wasn't for me,' _Dean thinks rather uselessly.__

____

____

He rests his forehead against the top the steering wheel and grimaces at his thoughts. He thinks about how he was saved in vain. If Castiel had left him there in hell, he wouldn't have fallen so far. He'd be on the angel's side, and they wouldn't have felt compelled to kill him.

\--

That night, Dean lays on a blow up mattress on the carpet beside the couch where Sam himself sleeps. He tosses and turns, but he's really not tired. He wants so badly to retreat into the peace that would come with taking a nap, but it eludes him. He ends up on his back, facing the ceiling with exasperation. He takes a deep breath, looking up at the faded devil's trap against the dark beige colored paint.

Dean lays still, staring up at the shadows on the roof, and this works for him for about half an hour before he sits up with boredom and spares a glance at Sam. He's dead asleep, snoring quietly from where his face rests sunken into a soft pillow. 

Dean rubs at his own face before standing up, allowing the blanket that had been wrapped around him to slip from his waist and drop to the ground. Quietly he creeps into the kitchen and opens the fridge. It creeks a little, making him flinch and gaze back to Sam, because sleep in this house is well deserved and it would serve him kindly not to disturb his brother's.

But Sam is still just as unconscious as he was when Dean stood only moments ago. Dean turns back to the fridge, takes out a beer and softly closes the door. He then settles back against the sink and pops the lid off of the cold, glass bottle.

Dean wonders why he feels so refreshed when he hasn’t slept in days as he takes a short sip, and immediately his instincts scream at him to spit it out. The taste is absolutely abhorrent, and he immediately spits it all over the kitchen floor, feeling the cool liquid dribble down his chin and under the neck of his shirt. It sits on his tongue, upsetting his senses enough that he has to lift his shirt by the hem and lick the fabric to remove the awful taste. The cotton of his unwashed t-shirt is more appetizing than that awful beer.

He lifts the bottle to his face, struggling to read the label in the low light, but nothing looks out of the ordinary. It's the same brand of beer he's been drinking here for days. Dean settles the bottle on the bench and glares at it like it insulted his mother, because what on earth was that? And suddenly Dean feels a white hot burning sensation behind his eyes, his body instantly crumpling, helpless, to the checkered vinyl flooring in pain with a shrill scream dying in the back of his throat.

He can't see a thing, his entire body lighting up with pain. It feels like his spine has been broken all his life and is finally smashing back into place. His legs and arms feel like they're stretching beyond what would commonly be seen as normal, and then he feels something is filling him up from the inside out. He's never felt so full in his life, like he'd been born a hollow shell and was only now accepting he could be something more.

And then everything seems to just fade away, and he's floating comfortably though space with a pleasant buzz pulsating within him. He's blinded by the joy he feels about how at peace he is with himself and his body, and this life that has been spiraling out of control for a while now. But just as quickly as he's given this peace, it's ripped away from him quite violently. He's slammed back into his body so roughly it feels like it could kill him. He's suddenly crammed into a space he no longer fits into, and it's pure suffering.

When Dean opens his eyes, it feels an awful lot like he's dreaming. The room around him rings in the silence, colors look brighter, the entire room appears warmer even in the low, grey light coming from the moon through the windows. And he can't control his body, it works around him like he isn't even there. It has a mind of its own.

He sees himself looking down at his hand from inside his head, but nothing feels real, and he's helpless to make his own movements as his hand curls into a fist. Carefully he anticipates what his body may do next as he wonders what this could mean. Could he have passed out on the kitchen floor and was now caught in some strange, meta, nightmare? Was there something in the beer, and that's why it tasted so poorly?

Dean hears himself hum, but he feels the vibrating in his ears like he used to feel his mother's voice in his ears when he laid on her chest while she read him a bedtime story. And soon Dean realized he recognized the gentle tune. It honestly shocked him he didn't catch it sooner. His body is humming Ramble On by Led Zeppelin without his permission, but then that wasn't anything new considering he can't control anything else in this dream. Which is weird because whenever he's had a lucid dream, which is what he thinks this may be, he's had at least some kind of control.

"Dean?" Dean hears Sam's tired voice grumble, a little frustrated to be roused from a decent sleep by Dean's insistent humming. Dean watched on as his eyes raised, his brother sitting on the couch, gazing in at Dean.

"Hello, Sam," Dean speaks, his voice pitched a few octaves than what was usually considered normal for him. Not even his own grumbling, sleepy voice was a match for the level-headed, low tone that left his mouth just now without a care for what he wanted to say or do himself.

Sam pulled a face before standing up, a little surprised. And Dean wondered what his dream brother was gonna say or do. Would he offer to make him a nice warm coffee to soothe his rough vocal chords? Would he mock him for speaking so deeply and with so much monotone? Would he tell Dean he knows Dean knows he's dreaming? Who knows?

Instead, Dean's body stood up straight and squared his gaze with Sam as Sam stood in the middle of the room.

And Sam looked relieved but also deeply unsettled as he looked his brother up and down and said, "Cas."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will this be another fic I start and never finish? Who knows?
> 
> Hoping posting it will keep me accountable.
> 
> Kudos and feedback appreciated.


	2. "Heya, Sammy."

"Cas." Sam had said resolutely, like Dean's face had morphed into Jimmy's suddenly, and he was walking around as a constipated tax-accountant type. But who knows, maybe he has morphed into the angel's ex-vessel in this weird dream universe.

Dean watched on from behind his eyes like he was sitting shotgun in baby with Sam driving. They're seeing the same stretch of road but he has no control over which direction they take. This is equal parts upsetting as it is relaxing, not having to make a move, getting to watch his life play out before his eyes. But he knows this will get old eventually, he's gonna need his body back at some point.

Dean's body gazed past Sam to the fireplace. It wasn't lit, being too hot a night for that. And he then moved his gaze then to the desk, to the piles of books and research on Lucifer, and the many different omens that could signal the end of days.

"How was your sleep?" Dean's voice grumbled, his face going slack with lack of concern. His fingers twitched at his side, and Dean felt a very intrusive thought worm it's way into his head, the consideration was to point at a distant object and demand to know what it is, like a child. Obviously, the urge was contained. He's an adult, and he can handle his impulses.

"How was my sleep?" Sam asked, sounding completely shocked at the prospect that dream Dean would think that's relevant. Sam raises his eyebrows to the roof and gives Dean an incredulous look. "Cas, we thought you were dead. Why didn't you show yourself sooner?"

"Dead?" Dean's body asked, tilting his head down and looking up at Sam though thick eyelashes. "Why would you think that?"

"Because," Sam paused, looking Dean's body up and down before rolling his eyes and continuing. "Because you were on your death bed, and when Dean said he'd be your vessel, you went missing. We thought for sure you were a goner when Dean couldn't feel you inside. Is none of this ringing a bell?"

Dean's body remained still and quiet, eyes on Sam as an unusual amount of confusion invaded Dean's mind, but it wasn't his own. Of course he knows this to be true, that all this happened, but it's like some strong part of him doesn't know that.

"No," Dean's mouth spoke around the word like it was painful to force it out. And maybe it was. "That's not true."

Dean decides it's time to wake up. His patience is running thin and he doesn't have time to dream he's being possessed by his dead friend. It only hurts. He tries to squeeze his eyes shut, but he can still see everything around him, like he hadn't shut his eyes at all. _'Wake up, wake up, wake up.'_

"Cas?" Sam says cautiously, licking his dry lips. "What's the last thing you remember doing?"

"Driving the impala here after the fight between us and the angels," Dean's lips spoke, his husky tone wavering in light confusion.

"No," Sam urged. "That was Dean. Dean did that. What's the last thing YOU remember doing?"

Things went silent, Dean's body stood still, and his eyes lowered to the ground where it roamed across the flooring as if looking for something that may jog his memory. After a few beats of silence, Sam lets out a deep breath and approaches Dean with a gentle smile. "You just stay here, I'm gonna go get Bobby. Okay?"

Dean decides in his head that he's gonna just assume that he's being controlled by Cas in this dream. Seems pretty logical considering the circumstances. And he thinks about everything as Bobby and Sam come down the stairs a couple minutes later. Dean's body—well, Cas, didn't move an inch. He stayed perfectly still.

Bobby has a sharp, angry look to him, but whether it's because he isn't a fan of Cas in this moment, was upset to be woken so late, or something else entirely, Dean isn't sure. Suddenly Dean was being splashed by holy water. Usually it would be an annoyance to Dean, but this time it feels refreshing on his skin. It cleanses him a little, and he feels the edge of his lips quirk up into a satisfied smile as Bobby steps back and looks over to Sam.

"I'm telling you, Bobby," Sam said with a slight smile. "It's Cas."

"Then what happened to Dean?" Bobby asked, looking back to Cas and Dean.

Dean suddenly felt a wave of confusion and frustration so strong it was almost painful. He struggled to keep his emotions in check, wondering what the hell was happening. And apparently Cas felt the same because then he was frowning deeply at the pair, eyes wide with fury.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked, concern painting his feature. 

"I am.." Cas said, then paused as if he wasn't quite sure whether what he was about to say way truthful. Maybe he's mistaken. Maybe something is wrong here. "I am Dean. But.. I'm me?"

"Cas, are you okay?" Sam asked, raising a hand calmly, like he would reach out and touch Cas. "Are you still trying to heal from the fight."

When Sam stepped close enough to lay a gentle, caring hand on Cas' vessel's arm, Cas jerked away and stepped a few spaces back to put some more distance between them. He looked on with Dean's eyes and suddenly a wave of fear hit Dean, his own this time. What if this wasn't a dream? What if this is how his life is going to be from now on? What if he's possessed by an angel and doomed to see the world through his eyes like he's watching a movie for all eternity.

"I'm dreaming," Castiel said, sounding unsure of himself. "Aren't I?"

Dean wonders then if Cas can hear what he's thinking and if it's having some sort of effect of the way he feels.

"No, Cas," Sam said, shaking his head. "Yesterday, you possessed Dean. You are an angel. You are not Dean. You're just possessing him."

Cas stared back at them, not saying a word. Dean wonders if Cas was comprehending any of it. He has his question answered when Cas shakes his head and firmly insists he is Dean too. This makes Dean's stomach churn, and in turn it makes Cas' churn too, evident by the way he grimaces as he places a hand on his abdomen, which is Dean's abdomen.

Dean feels violated now, realizing Cas has full reign to do whatever he wants. He can change him if he likes, get his hair cut, make him wear panties, whatever gets the angel's rocks off. Dean is helpless to it, his entire body and mind laid out for the celestial. The possibilities are endless.

"Excuse me," Castiel says bitterly, walking past Sam and Bobby. The men let him leave, watch him as he heads upstairs. Then, Dean wonders what he'd expect them to do. Castiel is an angel, meaning he can fly, he can be stabbed and shot and not even flinch, they would be helpless to stop him in more ways than one if Castiel truly wished to go.

_Where are we going?_ Dean wonders aloud, the sound echoing into nothing inside his brain. Cas doesn't hear him, or if he does he won't acknowledge him.

Cas creeps into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He takes a deep breath and looks at himself in the mirror. And Dean realizes they both seize for different reasons. Dean can see large, pearlescent wings protruding from his back and he immediately stops breathing. Cas however seems more taken aback at looking like Dean. He places a hand to his cheek and his face goes pale.

Cas doesn't speak, his- Dean's, eyes gazing down his body and to the clothes that were so very NOT Cas. Suddenly, like a wave crashing to shore, control over his own body hit Dean like a tidal wave. He instantly lost his balance, and fell so hard his head hit the floor with a crunch. It would be funny if he hadn't hurt himself. And as he struggled to sit up, blood pouring all over the ground, Dean could feel Cas deep inside having a breakdown over the situation they're in. And Dean realizes with much grief that Cas' emotional pain is his own now, and Dean's physical pain is just a burden he seems to carry alone.

Dean props himself on the edge of the bathtub, head in his hand, bleeding profusely, sharing Cas' panic attack. And the only thing Dean could think to describe the situation as is 'confusing'. Dean doesn't understand why Cas is acting this way, why it's stressing him out so much, and Cas can't understand what's going on in general. He doesn't know if he's possessing Dean, because he has no memory of it. It's like he was torn from his vessel and thrown into a new one, and he's already deeply uncomfortable. And Dean's thoughts feel like his own, Dean's body feels like one they share. He never felt that with Jimmy. He was always in control, and Jimmy was lodged so deeply in the back of his head that Cas barely even thought about him. 

"Cas," Dean wheezed, leaning over. "Help me, heal me, please."

Cas was unresponsive, having retreated deep into Dean's head. And then there was peace inside his brain, except the concussion and intense bleeding. Dean felt like Cas was gone again, like he'd never been there in the first place.

Dean groaned. "Sam. Sammy."

But the younger Winchester couldn't hear him. And then, Dean slumps to the side and blacks out.

\--  
Dean sees flashes of familiar things, like drinking with his brother as he works on a case, exorcising demons, reading lore. But the only thing he feels is pain. His entire body feels like it's covered in charred flesh. And Dean fears he's back in hell. He must have died from that measly head injury and now he's in hell. It wasn't fair. But Dean could hear people talking too. A whisper here, a conversation there. And Dean realizes he never once hears his own name. But, he hears Cas' repetitively. 

And then all Dean feels is anger as he realizes every familiar thing he's seeing is not as familiar as he thought. Nothing makes sense to him because this is the first time he's seeing it. And he's burning up, and he can't breathe in the space he's in, and Dean's pretty sure he's panicking, and this isn't what he signed up for. 

Dean suddenly feels the pain growing more intense, and then he's thrown around. He starts to shake, then he tenses as a hand presses to his side and fuses with his body. And the feeling is so relieving against his burnt skin that he leans into it without thinking, fusing further and further with the body, and then it happens, much like it did last time. He feels himself being crammed back into the tiny space that is his body, but unlike last time, Dean immediately has control of himself.

Dean throws himself forward, crumbling in on himself to hug his abdomen. He's shaking with sensitivity, his entire body alight at each nerve ending. And when he finally has the strength to look up, Dean sees Sam leaning over anxiously, expectantly. 

"Heya, Sammy," Dean greets, forcing a smile.

Sam smiles with so much joy it almost breaks Dean's composure. He almost wants to cry as the suffering that comes with being possessed by Cas is pressed into the forefront of his mind. But he pushes how he feels down, and watches his brother as he sits up on the edge of the bed of the random hotel room and claps Dean on the shoulder. "Welcome back, Dean."


	3. "Compatible souls, if you believe in that stuff."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New Vessel? Soon maybe?

"Two weeks?!" Dean practically shouts, horrified. Two days at the most, he thought, a couple hours at least. Not two weeks. Where on earth has he been?

"It took a long time for Cas to recover," Sam reasoned, frowning. It had been a rough two weeks, just him and the angel wearing his brother's skin. And for most of it Cas thought he was Dean. He'd bring up an anecdote very specific to Dean's life and play it off as his own. For some time he would only respond to Dean and not Cas. He wouldn't use any of his angel mojo. Worse of all, he began to adopt some of Dean's less savory habits.

Cas was living in Dean's head, and it was hard to dislodge the angel. But, over some time, Sam managed to separate the two in Cas' mind. It helped that the impending apocalypse reminded Cas of what was really important, and soon the angel began to act more like himself again.

There was even a point where Cas asked where Dean was, forgetting Dean was with him. But Sam was so alarmed at the time that he wasn't able to enjoy that particular point of progress. Sure, Cas was beginning to accept that he and Dean weren't the same person, but to forget he's there entirely deeply disturbed Sam. It made him wonder where Cas had put him. And when Sam had frowned at him and said, "umm, you're possessing him.." Castiel looked deeply confused for a moment, a moment longer than Sam would have liked, before he realized Sam was right and went back to what he was doing. That was uncomfortable.

But before long Castiel was willing to accept that he needed to give the body back to Dean, and perhaps go searching for a new vessel. Hence, the brother's reunion. Cas wasn't gone-gone. He was sitting in the back of Dean's head, riding shotgun, as it were. Waiting patiently.

Dean wasn't too happy about all this.

"Point is," Sam interrupted Dean's frustrated, incoherent rambling. "Things are going as planned, you're back, Cas is back, now we can get back on track and look for Lucifer."

Dean frowned as he opened the mini bar, his fingers grazing across a shot sized bottle of vodka. There was no beer, just spirits, which sucks. But as he tried to take the bottle from the fridge, he remembered what the beer had tasted like, and he dreads the thought of what vodka must taste like.

"Any leads?" Dean asks, shutting the door instead of taking a drink. Out of instinct he inspects the area, checking in the bathroom and out the windows for potential threats as Sam explains how unusually relaxed things have been, and how Lucifer must be planning something.

 _The calm before the storm,_ Dean thinks to himself, stepping away from the curtains to look back to his brother. Sam looks exhausted, Dean realizes. His eyebags are dark and puffy, he's squinting like he's struggling to keep his eyes open, he's slumped over the table resting on one hand.

"Hey," Dean says, voice heavy with concern as he approaches the table packed with books and lore. "When did you last sleep? You look awful."

Sam chuckles, then as if on cue he yawns and sits back on the chair. His eyes close momentarily as he spoke. "Yeah, well you would too if you'd been stuck babysitting an angel who never sleeps."

Dean gives him a pointed look, reaching over to shut the laptop screen. "Go and take a nap for a while."

"What are you gonna do?" Sam asks, but the way he says it sounds like he's protesting the thought. And maybe he is, because how can he sleep while the ultimate force of evil—Satan himself—is out there, likely wrecking havoc on the unsuspecting world while hitching a ride in an innocent person?

"I've just gotten my body back," Dean said, pressing a hand to his chest as he takes a deep breath. He's still very disturbed that at any moment Cas could take him over once more and shove Dean back into whatever hell he was just trapped in. It's then, as Dean feels his shirt beneath his palm, he realizes he's still wearing what he was when he passed out two weeks ago, but it's clean of blood and smells freshly washed. Guess that's one of the very few perks that come with angel possession. "I'm hitting a bar."

Sam yawns again, this time so hard his eyes water. "Alright, I guess if you have everything under control, then I can afford to take a short nap. Just, wake me in two hours. Okay, Dean?"

Dean halfheartedly agrees, checking his pocket for his wallet before bailing from the room as Sam begins getting ready to go to bed. It's not even 12am, and Dean's got so much time on his hands. Because as if he's gonna come back in only two hours and disturb Sam from a much needed rest.

\--  
Dean finds himself in a nearby bar, and somehow Dean manages to forget Castiel is possessing him, all the way up until he takes a sip of his beer and nearly chokes on it. But he gets it down and drops his head as the awful liquid offends his poor taste buds. Dean can't believe he'd forgotten when only less than half an hour earlier he was reminding himself of his little issue.

"I just want to drink," Dean mutters, defeated as he traces his fingers through the condensation on the outside of the glass.

"Don't we all?" Comes a disruptive voice to his left. He looks the part of basic white trailer trash. It's a burly man in his 40s, a thick beard, truckers hat, dungarees, the whole nine yards. He takes a beer from the bartender and gives Dean a polite nod, but Dean doesn't much appreciate the gesture. He frowns at the man as he walks halfway across the bar to a booth in the back. Dean isn't surprised when he sits with a group of men who look just like him, and women who look like they collectively have 12 kids of which they don't know who the fathers are.

And Dean doesn't generally judge people like this, but he's bitter and sober, and he's pissed he can't enjoy his beer. And that even if he suffered through a few rounds, it would probably fail to intoxicate him.

"Tough night?" The young man behind the bar asks, pouring a drink for himself. And Dean's pretty sure that has to go against some law or code, but he doesn't say anything as the man sips his beer and leans against the counter.

He isn't unattractive, that's for sure. He's got a perfect set of pearly white teeth, sparkling green eyes which are much brighter than Dean's own, he's the perfect height and weight with a generous amount of soft black hair.

"Tough couple of weeks," Dean says, raising his drink in a toast. "I think."

As Dean sips the repulsive drink a thought raises to his mind that comes seemingly out of nowhere. His brain notes to him that this kid is a good potential vessel. The thought sends chills up his spine, and he fails to sip his drink as he watches the kid thoughtfully.

Dean feels a nagging sensation in the back of his mind, and before he's even had time to think of what to say, his mouth opens and he asks, "do you believe in God?"

The kid smiles at him lopsidedly before looking down at the counter. He sets his drink down and sighs, looking back up at Dean through pretty eyelashes.

"I used to," he says, tilting his head back a little. "But I wasn't a fan of the community. Turned me away. My girlfriend and her family are devout Christians though."

Dean hears a voice in his head suddenly, and it smacks the air out of his lungs at the force. It reminds him of when he'd first been raised from Hell. Whenever Cas tried to talk to him, it was always an awful, terribly loud ringing in his ears. A ringing that shattered windows and made him drop to the floor in pain trying to shield his poor ears. And as he hears the words, _'I need to see his girlfriend.'_ Dean gets that same anxious, pained feeling he got whenever Castiel spoke to him.

"What?" Dean blurted out, looking around for source of the sound. It sounded like it was coming from all around him, and the noise reverberated through his skull and vibrated his spinal chord. It wasn't pleasant.

"I'm sorry?" the kid said, looking taken aback by Dean's abrupt outburst. "I just don't believe it. Sorry."

With that, the kid shot him a look and walked away through a door leading further into the building, to a staff area Dean supposes. And Dean's embarrassed that he just did that as he lowers his head and looks around nervously.

"Did you just speak to me?" Dean asked under his breath, looking down at his hands in his lap. He examines his palms as he waits for a response, startled when it actually comes. _'Yes. I know, it's new to me as well. I've never spoken directly to my vessel once I'd possessed them.'_

Dean hears the words like someone had put speakers to both his ears at max volume. The words burned in his brain, and it was a struggle to even make out what he was saying it was that intense. And Dean flinched when Castiel had begun to speak, because Jesus Christ.

"Can you lower the volume?" Dean snapped, surprised when he felt someone grab his arm. Looking up, it was buff man in a security uniform, harsh eyes glaring into Dean's now more timid ones.

"You need to leave," the man said, tugging Dean off the stool he was on. Dean didn't stop to argue, it wasn't worth the trouble. Dean figures the kid called on security because he was sure Dean was judging his lack of faith. He's probably spent his whole life being judged for being atheist. He didn't need it at his job. 

When Dean gets outside, he immediately puts distance between him and the bar, like leaving the area would leave the situation behind with it. But Cas was still in his head, evident by the way Castiel quickly continued speaking to him once they were alone. This time he was a lot quieter, much more like a thought in Dean's head rather than a migraine inducing scream. _'I need to see his girlfriend, Dean.'_

"Why?" Dean snapped, gazing back at the establishment. "Why do you need that?"

_'Much like being a vessel runs in their bloodline, often vessels can attract other vessels. I could feel it. Like compatible souls, if you believe in that stuff. His girlfriend could work, then we can part again and things can return to normal.'_

"What, so you just jump from me to some poor girl? Take away her life like you did Jimmy? Like you're doing to me?" Dean said, making his frustration clear. "Well, not like me because I doubt you'd give her any control. You'd just steal her body."

Castiel is silent for a moment, reflecting on what Dean is telling him. Then he speaks once more. _'It's an unfortunate situation, yes. But if we have any hope in fighting Lucifer, it would definitely be beneficial I have a body to fight with. Two of us versus one shared being would up our odds of winning.'_

Dean sighs, looking over as the bartender left the building, making his way over to his car as his shift has ended. Cas was right, they're probably weaker together than they are apart. 'You and what army,' and all that.

So, Dean follows the kid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was gonna make a reference to an early nineties movie called "body snatchers", and although it would have been technically correct—being that the movie is about aliens replacing people, and in this chapter Cas is planning on replacing this girl in her own body—I haven't actually seen the movie so it didn't seem right. 
> 
> Maybe in the future lol
> 
> Might go watch that movie now actually.


End file.
